


evade and counter

by takenbynumbers



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: Vincent watches Hojo. Sometimes it goes beyond that.
Relationships: Hojo/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	evade and counter

Violence is all he knows. The tender touches have always been tinged with underlying anger and barely suppressed emotions threatening to spill over. 

He knows this in the way Veld touched him - tentatively, like one would a vicious animal. And yet he fucked Vincent like he was something to be tamed. Domesticated. Trying to force him to fight against his nature like it's something that's in his control. 

There's something about the monsters under the bed, but no one told Vincent how it works if _he's_ the monster they're all afraid of.

When Hojo touches him, it's with a clinical hand. All exploration and thoughtful hums as Vincent strains against the straps holding him in place. And he asked for this, to be examined, but not in the way Hojo treats him. Just another body, waiting for the right responses that will confirm all those questions and queries left unsaid. 

He wonders if Hojo touches Lucrecia like this. The thought stirs something and he can feel himself start to swell. 

"Ah, so the specimen likes this, hmm?" 

Vincent likes Hojo’s passion. His dedication. It's what drew him in, watching as he describes phenomenon that can't quite possibly exist with such a fervour that it would make a church leader _weep._

He hates the latex glove probing him, slick and steady, preparing him for the next step of their little _examination._ Still, he remains silent, anticipation building. 

When he watches Hojo work, he's reminded of his father from beyond the grave. He wants to snatch the pen away, demand Hojo’s attention - revert back to the young boy trying to bond with his father all those years ago. 

An apology is on the tip of his tongue but Vincent doesn't know who it's for.

When Hojo tugs at the straps, rearranging him so he's easily accessible, Vincent turns his head, looks to the wall. Like he won't be able to feel anything if he doesn't watch. 

He always does. His body betrays him every time. Like the way his hand shakes right before he takes the first shot, before instinct and _blood-lust_ takes over and his body _knows_ what it needs even if his mind and conscience refuse to accept it. 

At the first thrust it takes all his self control not to throw Hojo off but fuck, he always felt that with Veld. Maybe it's just how he's supposed to feel. Before it all melts into pleasure and a blinding desire to take back his control. 

That's all it is, at the end of the day. As Hojo allows one hand to be freed, sweat dripping from his forehead as he takes Vincent over and over, he doesn't try to flee. Doesn't do anything more than take himself, stroking in time with Hojo’s thrusts. 

Patience. That's all he needs. And then he'll take back control. From Hojo, from Veld…

Vincent knows who he wants to apologise to, but it's a moot point as he finishes with a silent gasp, neck straining as he tries weakly to move away from Hojo, but it's in vain. 

Besides, they both know he's got nowhere else to go. 

Or anywhere else he'd rather be.

  
  



End file.
